


Iris Lily Potter - Wild

by YourFavouriteManicPixie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Being an Idiot, Anxiety, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Draco Malfoy is Clueless About Muggle Things, F/F, Female Draco Malfoy, Female Harry Potter, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Hogwarts First Year, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Iris is a true daughter of james and mcgonagall wants to retire, Iris looks like lilly and severus cant cope, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, Ron Weasley Bashing, draco will still be called draco because im not original, iris and draco will end up together worry not, iris is a fucking badass, praise the avocado!, ron is an asshole sorry, seriously this biach save my soul, seriously this kid will beat you up, slightly toasted avocado is my saviour, someone giver her a goddamm hug, weasley twins are unofficial bodyguards for the girl who lived
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-30 15:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17831108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourFavouriteManicPixie/pseuds/YourFavouriteManicPixie
Summary: Iris was wild, energy radiated around her like fire. She was like a wild animal ready to defend herself at any given moment, ready to run and ready to fall.  Every time her Aunts palm met her face Iris just smiled, picked herself up of the floor and continued living, every time her cousin chased her around the playground Iris was faster always out of reach or hiding while stifling her laughter, every time her uncle hurt  her she would refuse to show emotion, refused to cry in his presents, no matter the chosen weapon, fists, belts, even his own pleasure.Iris is the girl who lived and shes starting her first year at Hogwarts, she trusts no-one but a certain blonde girl with a tight pony tale brings the hyper ginger out of her shell.quidditch and unicorns and Voldemort OH MY!





	1. A normal summers day

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm Tink an welcome to my first fanfiction on this site. i used to use fanfiction.net but it just wasn't working for me. read the tags and warnings because shit gets dark however my plan (pfff i have a plan?) is for it to get progressively darker as the books progress just like the original books kinda grew up with the reader. i have no beta and my spelling could be better but i think i spell checked this as much as i can without going insane. hope yall enjoy! I've also made a tumblr account for this series its called YourFavouriteManicPixie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short introduction into our redheaded hero

Iris was wild, energy radiated around her like fire. She was like a wild animal ready to defend herself at any given moment, ready to run and ready to fall. Every time her Aunts palm met her face Iris just smiled, picked herself up of the floor and continued living, every time her cousin chased her around the playground Iris was faster always out of reach or hiding while stifling her laughter, every time her uncle hurt her she would refuse to show emotion, refused to cry in his presents, no matter the chosen weapon, fists, belts, even his own pleasure, she refused to look weak and give them what they wanted. They starved her to make her weak, she stole food in the dead of night, they locked her away in the cupboard to isolate her, she made friends with spiders and dreamed vivid dreams of running through fields. Iris was a broken girl, but she refused to break, even at the dead of night when tears threatened to fall Iris just smiled.  
Iris was stronger than any girl her age should have to be, but she took it in her stride, Iris learned to smile while there were tears streaming down her face, learned to breath when fear gripped her with an iron fist, learned to set broken bones when her uncle got mad. Iris was a survivor and she was determined to do just that survive.

  
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When Iris first arrived at number 4 privet drive her aunt took her in and began raising the daughter she always wanted, a new cot was placed in Dudley’s nursery and pink frilly dresses were bought in bundle. For the first 4 years of her life at privet drive Iris was loved by her aunt. Her Uncle forced a smile when his dearest Petunia raved about the cuteness of their newly founded daughter, forced a laugh when a flash of red hair raced into the living room only to fall head first into the sofa, and hid a frown when he watched his son and daughter playing in the garden getting covered in mud. Vernon held no love for the hyper red head, he had heard Petunia’s story’s of her little sister and the life she lived, he held no love for something so evil as far as he was concerned Iris was born of sin and would corrupt his house, his family but he would put up with her existence until his wife saw the errors of her ways, she would beg Vernon to get rid of the girl and her wickedness.

It was a normal summers day when love turned to hate, the sun burned in the sky, birds flew around, and the wind blew gently threw the trees. It was a hot day, so Petunia had decided to take her young ones to the park. Dudley spent the day eating the sandwiches and sweets brought by his mother and stealing those that belonged to Iris, while Iris spent the day running wild, jumping from tree stump to tree stump, flying high of the swings and getting leaves stuck in her long-tangled hair. Petunia watched her children in content, giving Dudley endless coins to get ice cream from the truck and laughing at Iris’ screams of joy as she swung higher and higher on the swing set. Rain began to fall from the sky and Iris was amazed, reaching her small hand to grab at the raindrops while she swung higher and higher, ignoring her aunts warning to keep a hold of the swing so that she wouldn’t fall, but as the rain grew heavier and her swings higher Iris did just that, fall. Iris dreamed of flying so constantly that she almost believed that she could, so when instead of hitting the ground with a painful thud she floated like a leaf falling from a tree, she was filled with joy. The happiness blinded her to her mum’s horror filled expression and the tears of anger falling from her eyes.

It was a normal summers day when love turned to hate, her aunt screamed when she called her mum, her cousin pushed her for making his mum cry, and her uncle laughed at the young girls tears of confusion as she was removed from her bedroom of comfort and thrown into the small cupboard under the stairs. Petunia no longer had a daughter, she had a painful reminder of her sister, a burden. Iris no longer felt loved, she no longer played in the garden with Dudley, instead she was made to clean and be quiet, she no longer helped Petunia make dinner while sitting on the counter top and laughing at her mothers concentrated expression, instead she sat at the table with little to no food on her plate and a painful cheek when she asked for more. Iris was wild, energy radiated off her like fire, she grew up unloved and abandoned, she grew up with so much energy pulsing through her veins and so much pain hidden behind her thickening skin, she became a bomb waiting to explode, and explode she would.


	2. There is no such thing as magic...right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intro Hagrid!   
> warning for rape and child abuse (don't worry those suckers will get whats coming to them... in time)  
> thank you slightly toasted avocado for the help

“I don’t know! One minute the glass was there, the next it was gone! It was like magic.” But as soon as she said that word, she knew she was in for it. Vernon grabbed her by the hair and began dragging her into the house, with little care of what she banged into.

“THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS MAGIC!” he yelled as he slammed the young girls head into the hallway wall with a sickening smack as it nocked against a photo frame. Dazed Iris fell to the floor feeling the familiar drip of liquid matting in her hair.

“Petunia dearest, take Dudley out and buy him something to cheer him up, this one needs taught a lesson.” Knowing the meaning behind his words Iris looked at her aunt, silently begging her to help and for a second a split second her aunt seemed stuck, but Aunt Petunia never helped. Petunia turned on her heels and lead her son away from the house, shielding him from the atrocity’s about to take place there.

Iris closed her eyes as her uncle dragged her into the living room, slammed the blinds shut and began removing his own clothes before ripping off Iris’. Once Iris heard the familiar sound of a belt being undone Iris curled up in a ball, leaving only her back accessible to her uncle,

“You’re a no-good freak!” Smack

“You deserve this!” Smack

“You’re a whore just like your mother!” Smack

Iris felt herself detach from her body, she felt like she was floating inside her own head, she felt empty. This happened often enough that it didn’t scare Iris anymore, if anything she welcomed this detachment from reality. This escape did not last long as Iris was forced back into reality when her Uncle stopped beating down on her back and moved on to discard his belt and punish the girl in a different manner. Iris squeezed her eyes shut as he thrusted into her, this wasn’t the first time her uncle had chosen this type of punishment, yet somehow the pain never eased.

Iris stayed silent throughout this assault only letting a few tears fall once she was thrown helplessly into her cupboard, that night she cried herself to sleep.

The weeks following the _incident_ Iris was treated like scum, her chores grew larger and endless and the food she was supplied with was either rotten, or the scraps from Dudley’s plate, but Iris never let her relatives see her pain, she greeted Aunt Petunia with a smile as she was making breakfast, complemented her uncles tie as he left for work and did her cousins summer homework with enthusiasm. Of course, this angered the Dursleys but that was the point, Iris knew she was too tiny to fight back with fists so she did so with a grin and joyous words, from her behaviour you would never guess that she was so mistreated and starved of affection. Iris had forgotten her life before the cupboard, she believed herself unlovable, with no place to truly belong, but this changed when a certain letter was posted through the letter box.

 

Just like everyday Iris woke up before her Aunt and Uncle to make them breakfast, careful not to burn the bacon, knowing that if she did the pan it was cooked in would find itself smacking against the back of her head. Iris danced around the kitchen as music played from the small radio on the windowsill, her arms and hands casting shadows on the bright sunlight shining through the window. The early hours of the morning and the hours just after the Dursleys went to sleep were Iris’ haven, she would dance around the house cleaning and playing imaginary games with imaginary people, her feet quiet on the wooden floor.                                                                                                                        Iris heard a door open upstairs and quickly moved into action, turning off the radio and shovelling what small food she could steal into her mouth as she turned on the kettle for her uncle’s morning coffee and aunt’s green tea. Neither her aunt or uncle acknowledged her as they sat down at the kitchen table, Iris placed their cups before them then returned to her task of making breakfast,

“Don’t burn my bacon!” Vernon grumbled as he nursed his coffee, Iris smiled

“wouldn’t dream of it uncle.” With the food cooked and set on the table and Dudley finally having made his way to the kitchen, Iris moved to leave the house and go to the back garden only to be stopped by her uncle’s hand grabbing her elbow,

“Do something useful and fetch my post.” Doing as she was told Iris skipped to the hallway and picked up the assortment of letters from the floor, one from the bank, one from Dudley’s school and one from…

“no way!” Iris whispered in excitement and disbelief, there was a letter addressed to her! Or more specifically Miss I. Potter, Cupboard under the stairs, number 4 private drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. With her feet moving on auto piolet Iris re-entered the kitchen and handed her uncle his mail, all the while gripping her letter in shock.

“Wha’ve you go’ther?” her cousin questioned through his bacon filled mouth, not bothering to swallow. Iris’ head shot up, she glanced around the table only to see three pairs of eyes glaring at her and the letter she clutched in her small hands, not knowing what to say to get herself out of this she didn’t see Dudley fly across the table and was then to slow to stop him from ripping the letter from her hand.

“Hey! That belongs to me! It was addressed to me!” She yelled at her pig of a cousin, reaching to grab the letter back only to have her hand slapped with the back of a metal fork, hissing in pain Iris sat back in her chair.

“Who would write to you?” her uncle sneered as he took the letter for himself, paling as he read the front of it and glancing at his wife. “Go to your cupboard!” he roared.

“But- “

“NOW!” And with that Iris jumped to her feet quickly and scampered to the cupboard, not wanting her uncles’ anger to be taken out on her.

As she sat in her small bundle of blankets she called a bed, she cursed herself for not hiding the letter from her relatives, she wouldn’t know who wrote to her now, or how they new that she lived in the cupboard under the stairs.

Curiosity ate at Iris everyday for the next week, but she could do nothing about it as she had been refined to her cupboard every day, only allowed out twice a day to use the bathroom and eat a piece of day-old bread. Like usual Iris occupied herself by dreaming, she would close her eyes and imagen flying, imagen swimming in the ocean and playing tag with fairies in the woods. She imagined that the mysterious letter came from her parents, she imagined that they were alive and coming to save her, she imagined her mother hugging her and brushing her hair she imagined playing hide and seek with her dad, jumping on his back and running wild. Eventually her dreams made her sad, because she knew the truth, they were dead and if her life continued the way it was, Iris would be too.

“I’ll see you in heaven,” she whispered this to herself one night when she was 8, Vernon had gotten drunk and her punishment had lasted twice as long as usual, she no longer remembered why she was punished, but she remember the pain, how sure she was that she was death bound and for a split second she thought she saw her mother’s face. That face engraved itself into Iris’ brain and made her feel safe.

 

It was day 16 of being locked in the cupboard that things began to change. It was around midday and Iris was sitting in the bath, the first she had been allowed in a long time. Irish relished the warm water as it cleaned the dirt that clinged to her skin and soothed the muscles that were as tense as a bag of nots. Knowing that her Aunt would be annoyed if she stayed in the bath much longer, Iris stepped out and began to dry herself with a towel much too small for an average person and yet still wrapped around her, laughing at that thought Iris looked in the long mirror attached to the bathroom door and her laughing ceased. When she dreamed, she looked normal, like the other kids her age, yes, she was still small, but it wasn’t due to malnourishment but rather due to unfortunate genes. And she didn’t have scars. Vernon first used his belt on Iris when she was 7 years old, she had burned his breakfast and he had a hangover. He only hit her once or twice that day, but Iris knew exactly which scars were formed when and where, and the thick white scar that draped over her right shoulder came from that particular day. As Vernon got braver with his choice of punishment Iris’ number of scars grew and grew, most were contained to her back as she learned to curl herself into a ball to save the rest of her from damage, but a few lone scars had made there way to her arms and legs. Now looking in the mirror, her scars were all she could see, sure a part of her believed they were a sign of her strength but the other side of her saw the scars and got angry.

 However, her anger was short lived, Iris snapped back to reality as she heard her aunt yell from downstairs,

“Iris get down here right now!” Sighing Iris quickly threw on her oversized shirt that once belonged to Dudley and her worn ballet flats, opting to throw her long hair into a bun rather then take the time to dry it, however as soon as she came to that decision, she touched her hair to find it already dry.

‘what?’ she thought but had little time to focus on it as her aunt screamed for her once more. She walked down the stairs expecting to be thrown back into the cupboard but instead to her surprise she saw a large man with around kind face and an endless amount of facial hair, the man was so big that he had to bend down to see through the door frame. Iris normally viewed adults especially large men as people to be feared, but something about this man screamed safety. Curiously Iris crept down the stairs, starring at the man, then his gaze met her own,

“Yer must be Iris, I ‘avent seen yer since yer was a lil baby,” the man’s voice was loud yet soft at the same time, Iris walked towards him glancing at her aunt’s red face as she did,

“Oh, for goodness sake if you’re going to stay get in the house before the neighbours see you!” Petunia said in a shrill voice, marching towards the sitting room. Iris looked at the man who only smiled at her in return, gesturing for her to follow her aunt, and so she did just that.

The odd trio sat in silence for a few minutes, the large man was looking around the room with a slightly concerned look on his giant features, Petunia was glaring at said man like she was either plotting his murder or trying to kill him with her gaze, and Iris was watching it all with wide eyes,

In the end it was the large man who broke the silence, “Well I’ve goh’ a gift fer yer Iris, it being yer birthday an’ all.” With those words he produced a crushed white box from his pocket, “I ‘er may ‘av sat on it…” he said sheepishly handing it to her.

Iris starred at the box, “It’s my birthday?” she whispered, every year on Dudley’s birthday Iris would wonder why she never had one, and if she did, when was it? She didn’t dare ask her aunt or uncle knowing that not only would they not answer her questions but asking would result in a beating. Looking up at the man for reassurance, to which he just gave a small nod, Iris opened the box, and inside it held a cake with the words “Happy 11th Birthday” written in messy icing.

“I’m Hagrid by ther’ way.” The man, who she now knew as Hagrid said, Iris smiled at him, but her smile was soon replaced with a face of confusion. Suddenly the box was ripped from her hands,

“I’ve let this foolishness go on for too long, leave my house at once!” he r aunt yelled throwing the box to the floor, Hagrid stood up from his chair in anger and Iris sunk into the sofa in fear,

“Well if yer ‘ah just replied to yer letters, I would’n be ‘ere!” Hagrid bellowed in response.

“You sent the letters!” Iris squeaked, a hundred questioned swimming in her head

“She will not be going to that God forsaken school and that is final now leave my home at once or I will-…”

Hagrid pointed what looked to be an umbrella at Petunia and with that her voice went silent,

“Sit yer sorry behind dow’n.” Hagrid said and surprisingly Iris’ aunt obeyed, “Now as I wer’ sayen’… well eres’ the letter.” And he handed Iris a copy of the letter that had been delivered just over two weeks ago, and once again on the front it said ‘Miss I. Potter, Cupboard under the stairs, number 4 private drive, Little Whinging, Surrey’

Iris smiled, happy that her curiosity would finally be sated and opened the letter her eyes hungrily scanning through its contents,

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

 

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

 

Dear Ms. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall sig

 

Minerva McGonagall

 

Iris looked up at Hagrid her confusion still present, he smiled

“Yer a witch Iris.”


	3. Curiosity Killed the Cat, Good Thing Iris Isn't a Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is up my dudes, if you’re interested in being a beta reader for this story, hit me up! You’ll get early access to chapters and insight on where this series will be going.

“Yer a witch Iris,”

Those words unleased a world wind of memories to rampage through Iris’ head. The time she had brought a wilted flower back to life in aunt Petunia’s garden, the time her aunt shaved her head because she was frustrated with the girls untameable curls, only for her hair to have grown back the next morning… even this morning when Iris found her hair completely dry after her bath without even touching a hair dryer. Other memories surfaced as well,  telling her aunt about a dream she had were she met a unicorn, only to have a wooden spoon slap across her cheek, telling her teacher that she wanted to be a fairy when she grew up which led to her cousin and his friends picking on her for believing in such things… or when she compared the vanishing glass on the day of Dudley’s birthday to magic, the beating and defilement that followed.

“Well o’course yer already new tha’t” Hagrid said, breaking her out of her memories, “I’m Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts -- yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course.” He said with a slight chuckle picking the discarded cake box back off the floor and setting it on the table.

“Um, no...” Iris said, Hagrid’s smile dropped, and he jumped up in anger, causing Iris to once again shrink and her aunt to yell silently.

“I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters, but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

“learned what?” Iris asked, ignoring her aunts’ silent shrieks of disapproval

“Yer don’t know nothin' do yer?” Hagrid asked sadly sitting back down.

“I know lots of things,” Iris huffed trying her best not to be offended, Hagrid chuckled

"About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world."

“What world?” for a second Iris was afraid that her answer would break what little patience Hagrid had left as he looked as though he were about to explode, but once his own eyes met Iris’ terrified eyes, he took a deep breath,

"But yeh must know about yer mum and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

“Pff I’m not famous, and my – my mum and dad weren’t famous, were they?” Now Hagrid just looked sad

"Yeh don' know... yeh don' know... " Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Iris with a bewildered stare, "Yeh don' know who yeh are?" he said finally.

“I, I don’t know what you mean.” Iris was getting more confused as the conversation continued.

“Yer letter, Hogwarts, it’s a school fer people like you, wizards an’ witches, you’ be a thumpin' good 'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be?”

“you knew! You knew didn’t you! That I’m-… a… witch?” he accused her silent aunt, Hagrid once again pointed his umbrella at her.

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that -- that school -- and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was -- a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as -- as -- abnormal -- and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Iris burned white with rage, jumping up in a poor attempt to met her aunts gaze, "Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!"

“CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid,"How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Iris Potter not knowin' her own story when every kid in our world knows her name!"

"But why? What happened?" Iris asked urgently.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Iris, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh -- but someone's gotta -- yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

And so Hagrid told Iris just how her parent died,

‘no not how they died,’ Iris thought ‘How they were murdered.’

Hagrid told her everything, except the name of the man who had done it, unable to get over his fear of the name. Iris felt sad and angry and most of all confused, she stared at her aunt pleading with her eyes that it wasn’t true, that her parents had a better death then that. But it was true. At the end of the story both Hagrid and Iris had found themselves with tears flowing down there cheeks, even Petunia seemed humbled by the story of her sisters death.

“what happened to him? The man that killed them?” Iris sniffled,

"Good question, Iris. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see... he was gettin' more an' more powerful -- why'd he go?

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Iris. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on -- I dunno what it was, no one does -- but somethin' about you stumped him, all right."

A chill ran down Iris’ back as a memory took a hold of her brain, a single flash of green light. A scream,

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..."

“She will not be going! I wont allow it, Vernon wont allow it!” Petunia stood up and made to grab her niece and drag her out of the room, but Iris wasn’t having it, snaching her elbow out of her aunts grip,

"If she wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop her," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's daughter goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Her name's been down ever since she was born. she's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and she won't know herself. she'll be with youngsters of her own sort, fer a change, an' she'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled--"

“I WON’T SEND HER OFF TO BE TAUGHT MAGIC TRICKS BY A BLUNDERING OLD MAN!” Petunia yelled

But she had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER -- " he thundered, " -- INSULT -- ALBUS -- DUMBLEDORE -- IN -- FRONT -- OF -- ME!"

Pointing the umbrella at Petunia, there was a flash of light and suddenly Iris’ aunt found herself once again unable to speak, however this time it was due to her tongue having grew bigger and bigger until it took up the entirety of her mouth, with only the tip poking out. Iris doubled over in laughter, unable to control the joy the image brought to her,

“Would I learn how to do THAT!” she squealed, jumping up on the sofa to look Hagrid in the eye, Petunia appeared to be attempting to de-swell her tongue with her fingers, frustrated that it remained the same.

"Well er’ suppose yer would. I’d be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts tho," Hagrid said. "I'm -- er -- not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff -- one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job."

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Iris.

"Oh, well -- I was at Hogwarts meself but I -- er -- got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?"

“Oh well… we best be goin’ lots to do, gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

‘This has got to be a dream!’ Iris thought excitedly, pinching herself in the arm just to be sure, ‘surely things this good only happened in dreams, life isn’t that kind.’

Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

Iris froze, there was no way that her Aunt and Uncle would pay for her to got to Hogwarts, never mind the price of the books and uniform she would need, Iris voiced her fear,

"I haven't got any money -- and you heard my Aunt Petunia... they won't pay for me to go and learn magic." Upon hearing her name her aunt nodded in agreement her eyes narrowing.

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed--"

 "They didn' keep their gold in the house! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Yer might wan’a put yer birthday cake somewhere safe firs’”

And with that they were off, leaving her fuming aunt petunia behind still chocking on her enlarged tongue, as they walked Iris asked question after question about everything she could think of,

“Do witches really have wands?”

“Are fairies real?”

“Could I meet one?”

“What about unicorns?”

“GOBLINS? What are they like?”

And Hagrid was more then happy to answer her as she jogged to keep up with his long strides, laughing at just how eager she was to learn about this new world that she belonged to. Iris drank in everything he told her.

They finally came to a halt at once they reached the side of a main road and Hagrid stood at the edge of a footpath and reached his umbrella over the road. Bewildered at his actions Iris went to ask his what he was doing, but before the words had a chance to leave her mouth, she fell back to the side of the road as a purple triple-decker bus appeared, seemingly out of no-where. Hagrid helped her back to her feet as she stared at the odd bus,

“It’s er called the Knight bus, Iris” Hagrid said, “Shou’d take us straight to the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place." Hagrid took out some odd type of coins that Iris had never seen before and used them to pay for their bus tickets.

The bus itself was unlike anything Iris had ever seen before, not that she had ever been on a normal bus before. There was a handful of people also on the bus, people who Iris guessed, considering their extremely weird clothing, were also magic. Chairs littered the bus floor, seemingly unattached to it and were rolling around the place freely. Iris loved it and took no time at all to find a seat.

No one even batted an eye as Hagrid sat down, taking up two seat and promptly taking out what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent and continued to knit it.

"Still got yer letter, Iris?" he asked as he counted stitches.

Iris was still gripping the parchment envelope like her life depended on it, as if it would disappear in a flash, taking Hagrid with it.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Iris unfolded a second piece of paper she hadn't noticed the night before, and read aloud the items that she would need quickly rambling into a whole new set of questions,

"Can we buy all this in London?"

“Can I really get an owl?”

“Why can’t first years have a broomstick?”

“Wait witches really fly around on brooms?”

“Will I learn how to do that?”

This continued the whole journey, which Iris found rather enjoyable, squealing in delight as the bus would disappear and reappear in a completely new place, waving her hands in the air as the bus sped around tight corners, until finally Hagrid stood up, announcing that they were at their destination.

Hagrid was so large that he parted the busy London crowds easily: all Iris had to do was keep close behind him, gripping onto the back of Hagrid’s coat, just in case. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that look as if it could sell you a magic wand. But Iris took no notice, decided instantly that she did not like crowds, they were too noisy and made her jump every time someone banged into her.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

Once inside Iris’ mind began buzzing with questions once more,

‘For a famous place, it sure is very dark and shabby.’ She thought glancing around, a few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Iris’ shoulder and making her knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Iris, "is this -- can this be -- ?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent, and the silence made Iris feel uneasy.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Iris Potter... what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Iris and seized her hand, tears in her eyes.

"Welcome back, Ms. Potter, welcome back."

Iris didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at her. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Iris found herself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron. Feeling claustrophobic Iris drove out of their gaze, attempting to hide behind Hagrid’s coat, who in turn began attempting to usher the crowd away from the scared girl. However, as the crown dispersed a pale young man made his was forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Iris, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Iris's hand once she made her way from under Hagrid’s coat, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" she asked intrigued to learn more.

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought. Before Iris even had the chance to begin questioning the man further, Hagrid spoke up,

"Must get on -- lots ter buy. Come on, Iris”

Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at Iris.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh -- mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag -- never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject -- now, where's me umbrella?"

Vampires? Hags? Iris’ head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can. He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered -- it wriggled -- in the middle, a small hole appeared -- it grew wider and wider -- a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

“Wow!” And with that the young girl was of, running down the alley in excitement.


	4. Desperate

Aight i need a Beta reader or a co-writer of sorts to help me fix the plot of this fic so that i can keep writing. email me at IrisLillyPotter@gmail.com or check out the tumblr account YourFavouriteManicPixie if you are intrested!   
the help would be seriously welcomed and you would be credited 100%


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